


Silk Scarves

by Fruipit



Category: Wicked RPF
Genre: Bondage, D/s, F/F, Female Ejaculation, POV Second Person, Power Play, Pure Smut, Smut, Ties & Cravats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5038696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fruipit/pseuds/Fruipit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You feel her thighs tremble with every sweep of your tongue. Her hand fists in your hair. You can tell she's almost there, from the way she arches into your mouth, into you. You look into her dark eyes right before she descends into oblivion.</p><p>And it's absolutely perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silk Scarves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caliax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caliax/gifts).



> Written for caliax. I said I’d get it done before you woke up but you were supposed to sleep until it was done so *shrugs* ;P This came about after she basically wrote me porn while I was having dinner with my family. It’s actually the first paragraph, and it set the tone for the rest of this. Writing second-person smut is weird, fyi.
> 
> Also I’m still not sold on Chenzel but this story was for her and it’s her OTP so. Hope they seem in character and the smut is at least somewhat sexy. Enjoy

You feel her thighs tremble with every sweep of your tongue. Her hand fists in your hair. You can tell she's almost there, from the way she arches into your mouth, into you. You look into her dark eyes right before she descends into oblivion.

And it's absolutely perfect.

* * *

 

Your bed is empty when you wake up. Empty and cold and your breath catches because she  _promised_  she wouldn't do this. Not to you, not again. You bite back the emotion mounting in your chest as you glance around the room.

She isn't here, but that doesn't mean she's not still in the apartment. Your penthouse suite in Upper Manhattan has a stunning view of the city, and you convince yourself that she's appreciating it. Idina always did love a view.

The smell of sex and sweat lingers on your skin, and you barely bother to slip on a robe before you're wandering through the apartment. The sun has barely begun to rise; soft yellow and pink lines the cityscape, but there's no warmth just yet.

You find her sitting on the floor, in front of the ceiling-high windows. She's completely nude and  _oh so perfect_ , and you take a second to appreciate her form. Perfect shoulder blades peaking from behind gentle curls of chocolate. They're hiding other things, too; halfmoon imprints left across her back and around her thighs, the bruises covering her neck and throat. You know she has more, scattered across her stomach and descending down, and the thought brings another bubble of warmth to your naval.

She doesn't hear you pad across the carpet. Actually, she jumps when you put your arms over her shoulders and push your chest into her back. You want to sit on the floor – press yourself into her perfect ass and lose yourself in her – but she's too tall.

"Morning," you say instead, whispering in her ear. It becomes a kiss that builds slowly, moving behind her ear and down towards her throat. She gives a hum, and you feel your nipples harden.

She chuckles when she feels you press against her again, and you narrow your eyes in contemplation. Slowly removing yourself (and you know she feels the loss just as strongly as you do), you stand up. The robe has swung open, and she can't keep her eyes from staring. It brings a smirk to your face – there's so much  _power_  you have here – and you use a finger to beckon her. She climbs to her feet, watching intently as you slip the silk tie out of the dressing gown and take a step forward.

"I woke up and you weren't in bed," you say idly, not looking at her. You can still see her from the corner of your eyes, though. Your next words send a shudder through her body and makes you want to take her against the glass of the window. "I have an idea of how I can keep you there." The silk becomes taut as you pull it between your hands, and Idina swallows thickly.

You have no idea how you make it to the bedroom, in all honesty. Between the kissing and fumbling that follows that statement, you almost think you  _are_  going to eat her out in full view of the city. Your fingers are coated with her, and you know the silk is going to be ruined after this. It doesn't matter.  By the time you've pushed her down against the sheets, still damp from the night –  _hours_  – prior, she's so wet that you can't smell the everyday side of her. The open and innocent Idina that everyone knew was hidden beneath her own muskiness, her own raw sexuality. Your mouth goes dry as she writhes, begging for your touch. One of her hands is on her breasts, pulling and rolling and tweaking while the other is at work between her legs. You were right – she is covered in marks – and you know she's going to have even more by the time you're finished with her.

Gently taking her hands, you distract her with your mouth and your words. You don't even know if she's aware of you working, tying her wrists above her head and leaving her wanting with a smirk.

She whimpers when you sit up. You can see her thighs clenching, hips rolling as she seeks out some friction, but you aren't worried. You place a chaste kiss to her lips, pulling away when she tries to deepen it, and smirk.

"Wait here," you say, and she lets out a groan.

You slip away, tempted to let her stew for longer than what is strictly necessary for you to do what you're doing, but then she calls your name, a breathless and  _begging_  sound, and you can't wait any longer.

She's still struggling when you get back. She's not trying to break free of the bonds, but she still seems intent on getting some relief. Her back is arched, rosy nipples straining towards the ceiling. It almost sounds like she's sobbing, and in the half-light of the morning, you can see her slick, coating the insides of her thighs.

"Dee, look at me," you say. She struggles, but her eyes crack open a fraction.

She shuts them again almost immediately, and you saunter over. You sway your hips, even though she refuses to look at you again.

"Oh fuck-  _fuck_  that's hot," she says. You grin, and when you climb on top of her, you have to tell her again to open her eyes.

The tie, striped and tied in a half-Windsor, runs through your fingers. You glance down at it before you look back up and smirk. "Like it?"

Idina swallows thickly and nods. Her hips shift below you, and you're reminded just how wet she is, and just how wet you are.

"You've been so good," you say. "So, so good, good girl." She lets out a low whine as you slide up her body, leaving a trail of your arousal. You'll kiss and suck and lick it off her later, you know, but there are more important things to think about.

It doesn't take long until you're sitting on her chest. Her breasts press against your ass, and she's forced to watch as you touch yourself. Her eyes are wide as your hands ghost over your breasts, and you roll your nipples between your fingers. The pressure is absolutely wonderful, and though it's only been about ten minutes since you saw her at the window, it feels like it's been hours. One hand dips lower, swirling around your clit as you release a shaky breath.

Idina strains again, though this time it's to get to the woman in front of her. You dip your middle finger once into yourself before you take it out; she's watching, at complete attention, when you swipe your finger over her lips before bringing it to your own.

" _Please_ ," she chokes out, and finally,  _finally_ , you acquiesce.

Her tongue is just as good as you remember; her lips wrap around your clit for a second, sucking hard enough to make you cry out, before she's moved on. Her teeth scrape gently at the insides of your thighs, setting you on fire as her tongue probes, warm and wet and  _so fucking good_. Your hands slide into her hair as you gently rock against her, moving forward so your clit hits the very tip of her nose on each forward thrust. The room fills with your soft pants, and there's only one clear thought in your head as you watch her.

You throw your head back, hands moving from her hair to grip the headboard. "Make me come," you say, more to yourself than anything – at least, that time. She doesn't seem to have heard you (and you're not surprised) so you look at her, eyes meeting. "Fuck, Dee,  _make me come_."

It's not a breathy sigh or a whimper. Your voice is low and strong and hoarse, and you don't even know how it's possible for Idina's eyes to dilate further but they do. It reflects her actions; her tongue probes deeper, licking you boldly and touching you in all the right places. And then she  _moans_ , and the vibrations roll straight through you. You're so close; you can feel your climax looming, a great cliff and you're on the precipice.

You don't want it to end.

Idina, with her perfect lips and teeth and tongue, is about two seconds from pushing you over the edge when you move; rising up and out of her reach. You shudder and shake at the sudden loss, but it's more than worth it to hear her whimper, and to see your slick coating her chin up to her nose. Idina arches up, reaching for you, but you move again, completely out of her reach. Your grin is met with wide, pleading eyes, and you make a show of rocking your hips. One hand snakes down to cup your sex, and you let out a wanton moan; it feels good, but it's really only to make Idina jealous.

You move closer again, hovering just out of reach. You bop her on the nose with the end of the tie, but don't say anything, waiting for her to do something. Do something to deserve having you open and at her mouth once again. She doesn't disappoint.

"Let me make you come," she says. The words go through you, striking deeper and hotter than anything else. You're so ready to come. You sink down, moaning in relief as she kisses you again. You grind down, hard; your orgasm has been building for so long you can feel it hurtling towards you. Your clit is so sensitive it's almost painful, and you know if you don't come soon, you won't come at all.

But, Idina never had any problems with that. She knows you, sometimes even better than you know yourself. Her tongue thrusts into you as she sucks, bringing even more blood into your swollen lips. The sensations are almost unbearable; it's not a heat as such, but a  _need_. You need her to keep going, harder and faster. The sound of her sucking and licking is covered as you can't contain your voice, and your hands release the headboard and move to rub at your nipples.

You have so much but you still want – need – more, more,  _more_.

When you come, it happens so fast and so hard it borders on painful. Your cries echo through the apartment; your hips don't stop jerking and you don't stop coming, filling Idina's mouth and leaking across her face and onto the pillow beneath her. Your hips rock back and forth, still seeking some kind of friction. You never want this to end.

But it does, and Idina's looking at you with such a satisfied little smirk you decide you ned to wipe it off immediate. You scoot back enough to leave another trail over her body; you know she doesn't care, which somehow makes it even hotter. You untie her wrists at the same time you kiss her, tasting yourself. The sight of her, covered in your slick and come, is just about the sexiest thing you've ever seen, and even though your body isn't ready, your mind wants to start all over again.

It can wait, though, you decide. Idina certainly doesn't complain. In fact, it takes another half-hour or so before she even has the ability to think, let alone speak.

And you know that she isn't going anywhere ever again. She's found her place, and it's right next to you.


End file.
